Razor, Knife
by Pheo the Flame
Summary: Razor, knife, end this life, end this strife, drain my veins and take my life. A short, suicidal one-shot about everyone's favorite homicidal blonde.


**Razor, Knife**

AN: Um… reading will do some strange things to you. All that needs to be said. I don't own DN Angel.

…

Krad has his own body now. His own form, his own being, his own heart, mind and soul. He had all he had ever wanted in hundreds of years, and yet… He stared sadly at the drops of crimson red that dotted the pale cream of his skin. He smiled sadly; ashamed that he had chosen this as an out. But it wasn't an out, not really. He told this to himself time and time again. He wasn't trying to kill himself; he'd never try to do that. But… it felt so wrong. Being here, with his own body… it was wrong. He realized it now; that it was truly sharing a body; a mind with a tamer that gave him the will and drive to live, because he might not get the chance. But now that he could take it for granted, life wasn't what it once had been. It was too simple now, so he was simply trying to make living harder. That was all.

He didn't want to die… Did he? Krad stared at the lines of red on his wrists, examining them carefully. None were very deep; not deep enough to kill at any rate. They would scab over, heal, maybe leave scars, and he would not die. That was simple enough to see. He smiled sadly at his reflection, and his helpless eyes, once so crazed, gazed back at him.

Was there really a point to this life? After all, the last of the Niwa's had died several years ago. He had destroyed his tamer and taken over his body only days after that. It had been easy, manipulating emotions he hadn't then understood. But now he did, and he was destroying himself. He hated himself. With Dark gone, the Hikari works were safe. He didn't have to track and hunt that thief night after night. He didn't even have to worry about anyone else stealing the works; if a normal human touched a Hikari work with the intention to steal it, he or she would die.

No, Krad thought, there must be something to live for. Surely, there was some reason he existed? But try as he might, he could not find one. He remembered the night he had finally defeated his tamer.

_Blue eyes gazed dully down at the floor as the boy sat on the couch. It had been a train wreck, he had heard. The Niwa family, the last of the Niwa family, Daisuke, Riku, and their young child, had been on that train. His own father, Satoshi, had died many years back. Suicide, he had always heard. He had never known his mother. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall. Shinobu did not know about Krad. His father had never told him about his family's curse before he had killed himself two years prior. Shinobu had been fourteen years old when Krad took him over for the first and last time._

_Krad had stood up, knowing that he had won. His mind was his; the body he was standing in belonged to him alone. He felt his wings tear through his back, experiencing for the first and last time the pain his tamer's had gone through. But then it was over, and irrelevant. He walked up to an ornamental mirror that hung near the front door, and saw his reflection. His own reflection, not his tamer's. He smiled and his eyes glittered. He laughed._

Krad stared at his reflection now. He was pathetic. He was simply pathetic. He had no purpose but to keep the works of the Hikari's safe. He was nothing but a tool; a once useful instrument that could now be disposed of. He shrugged and smiled to himself; the same smile that he used to smile. For one moment, he looked like he once had. But he was not, and he reminded himself of this. He was nothing now. Nothing and nothing and no one.

The razor went twice across his wrists. First the left, then the right, very quickly, very deep. The blood flowed. He blinked slowly, then closed his eyes and let the welcoming darkness of death (whatever death it was that awaited) envelope him.

…

AN: I really don't know what inspired this. Maybe I should lay off the Stephen King books; maybe they're making me think like this. Anyway, reviews would be welcome, constructive criticism as well.


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